The Ex-Factor
by cakebythepound
Summary: Loving Rick hasn't been the easiest road for Michonne. (AU Richonne one-shot.)


**_A/N: So this kinda came outta nowhere. I've been working on other one shots just to keep my mind fresh, but this is the first one I've been compelled to post so far. It's based on one of my favoritest songs ever, Ex-Factor by Lauryn Hill. It's nothing fancy, just a bunch of angsty feelings, really, but I think I like it. Hope you do too! -Ashley_**

* * *

**The Ex-Factor**

_It could all be so simple  
But you'd rather make it hard  
Loving you is like a battle  
And we both end up with scars  
Tell me who I have to be to get some reciprocity  
See no one loves you more than me  
And no one ever will_

Michonne sat nervously, staring at her iPhone as the time changed from 2:29 to 2:30PM. She had been sitting at their table for less than five minutes, but it felt like an eternity. It had been so long since she'd been there. Davio's. It was she and Rick's favorite restaurant in all of Atlanta. He'd taken her there on their first date, and on pretty much a monthly basis ever since. When they were on, that is. They always sat at the same table, right by the bar.

It had been almost a year since she'd been back there, though. Only a little less since the last time she'd seen him. They texted on occasion, but for the most part, Rick Grimes had disappeared from her life. Some part of her thought she liked it better that way, or maybe she just knew she needed the distance, but that didn't stop her from grinning like a little girl when his face popped up on her phone. He said he wanted to meet her for lunch and she obliged without a second thought. Typical.

It was close to 2:40 when he appeared at the host stand. He didn't even have to look for her, he knew she would be at their table. He knew everything about her. Eight years with someone will do that.

He looked just as good as the last time she'd seen him. Maybe even better. He had always been attractive, of course, but as men tended to do, he only got better with age. His dark curly locks had grown a bit longer in their months apart, his beard had gotten a little more gray, but it just made him more sexy. Something about the way it framed his bright pink lips... She had always loved those lips.

He was wearing a suit, which she had never known him to do – it was always button-downs and jeans and cowboy boots when he was around her. She never imagined herself falling in love with a country ass white boy, but he had been her country ass white boy, and she loved that. She wasn't sure what to do with this guy in a tie.

He smiled confidently as he approached her, gazing at her awaiting face. She was just as gorgeous as ever, that smile of hers lighting up the whole damn room. She wore a body-hugging red dress that stopped just below her knees, and a pair of expensive looking gold pumps. He recalled fondly that she was always, always dressed to the nines. Just one of many reasons they were mismatched. Her sun-kissed dreadlocks were pulled into a high bun, allowing her flawless face to be on display. He realized in that moment how much he'd missed looking at her.

"Hey there," he greeted her, watching her stand to embrace him.

"Hi." Her smile got even brighter, if that was possible, as they came into contact with one another. "Glad to see you."

"Glad to see you, too," he smirked taking the seat across from her. "You look amazing."

"You're not so bad yourself," she winked playfully.

"How've you been?"

"Can't complain," she decided, taking a sip of her water. Being so close to him, she found herself suddenly feeling flushed. "How 'bout you?"

He nodded. "Same here."

"Business is good?" He owned a landscaping business that was surprisingly successful, considering how unfocused he tended to be. But he seemed to be better at business than personal affairs, Michonne knew.

"Business is really good," he confirmed. "We expanded to Augusta and Athens, we're movin' out to Macon soon. It's really good."

She smiled, happy for his success. She had seen him through most of it, recalling when it was just his neighborhood and a couple of the surrounding areas. "Started from the bottom now you're here," she joked.

"How 'bout you?"

"Same ol', same ol'," she shrugged. Her natural hair salon had been lucrative long before she met him. She rarely had time to do hair anymore, she was so busy running the business side of things, and it had become old hat at a certain point. "Again, I can't complain."

He knew she wanted to, but he let her keep up the charade. It was all a rouse, really, them sitting there babbling as if they were old acquaintances instead of exes. They had been ridiculously in love at several points in their lives, and now, it all amounted to a few awkward nods and small talk.

"I'll cut right to the chase," Rick cleared his throat. He felt nervous for some reason. Probably because on some level, he knew she wouldn't like what he had to say. But he wanted her to hear it from him, because he knew it would hurt. "I'm getting married."

_Is this just a silly game  
That forces you to act this way  
Forces you to scream my name  
Then pretend that you can't stay  
_

Her response was pure silence. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him blankly. Getting married. Getting married? How could he be getting married when she was in love with him? After all they'd been through? Her curvy lips flattened and she lost her will to sit there any longer. How the fuck dare he invite her to their restaurant to tell her that? Was he insane? "A phone call would've sufficed," she mumbled at him, grabbing her purse.

"Please don't go like this, Chonne."

"Don't call me that. Not now."

"I had to see you..."

"And you didn't think for a second about what that would do to me." Frustrated, she wiped the tears that were threatening to reach her face and got up to leave.

As her heels pounded the pavement towards the parking lot, she felt the anger bubbling up inside of her. She was furious, but mostly with herself. She didn't know why she was always so stupid when it came to him. He'd always had a hold on her – he knew just as well as she did, but as they got older, she thought for sure that grip would lessen. It seemed to only get worse. She didn't think properly when it came to him.

She let the heated tears fall as she hopped into her Lexus. She saw him follow, but sped out of the parking lot as quickly as her wheels would take her.

_No matter how I think we grow  
You always seem to let me know it ain't workin'  
And when I try to walk away, you'd hurt yourself to make me stay  
This is crazy_

* * *

Hours later, she pulled into her driveway to find him sitting there, waiting. It was dark, and she didn't know the car, but she knew it was him. This was the shitty way that they operated.

She got out of her car and warned him not to come near her. "You're not getting in this house, so go on home."

Ignoring her, he followed her up the walkway to her front door, waiting for her to let them inside.

"This is harassment, you know."

"You gonna call the cops on me again?" he smirked.

She forgot she'd done that. That had to have been their worst argument to date. But as many times as they'd been through it, it was hard to say. "I'm not above it," she agreed, refusing to look at him. She went ahead and unlocked the door, because she knew he was too persistent to let her do otherwise, but she didn't understand why he was there. If he was getting married, what could he possibly want with her?

_I keep letting you back in  
__How can I explain myself?  
__As painful as this thing has been  
__I just can't be with no one else_

She trudged inside, kicking off her heels on her way to turning off her alarm system. He stood in her living room, waiting.

"What do you want?" she asked, exasperated, leaning against her wall for leverage.

"I wanted to have a talk about this."

"There's nothing to say."

"It seems like you have a lot to say."

She shook her head slowly. "I left it all on the table the last time you were here. And you left, so…"

"I didn't leave, Michonne. You told me to go."

She demanded his gaze from across the room, looking him square in the eye. "We both know you were gone long before I asked you to go."

"I resent that..."

"It's the truth," she shrugged. "You loved me when it was convenient, Rick. When there wasn't a UGA game to go to, or some work emergency to tend to. When you weren't in the bars with your boys, flirting with other bitches."

"I never cheated on you."

She gave him a look of disbelief, but shook it away. It certainly didn't matter now. "It's fine. Really."

"It doesn't seem fine."

"Listen, I loved you with everything I had. But I know that I deserve to be with someone who gives a shit, and that's just not you."

"I did give a shit," he countered forcefully. "You were so consumed in your grief after your dad died, you wouldn't even speak to me. What was I supposed to do with that?"

"You were supposed to be there for me!" she yelled louder than she intended. "I didn't ask for much. But you walked away so many times, Rick. And every time you wanted to come back, I was willing to let you back in. Just like today." She glared at him as she thought about how stupid it all was. Nine months sober and she was willing to fuck it all up just because he picked up the phone and called again. "Is that not the stupidest thing you've ever heard?"

_See I know what we've got to do  
You let go and I let go too  
'Cause no one's hurt me more than you  
And no one ever will_

"That's what you do when you're in love with someone," he answered softly.

"I don't _want_ to love you."

"I know," he nodded.

"If you know, then why do you keep doing this to me?"

He began to cross the space that separated them. "Because some part of me loves you too, Chonne."

"Don't bring your ass over here," she rejected his approach. She knew if he got too close, she would forgive him for continually breaking her heart, and she just didn't want to. She wanted the right to be angry.

He did so anyway, holding his hand out to her. "I really want us to be friends at the end of the day."

She immediately slapped away his hand and looked at him as if he were crazy. "If you don't get the fuck..."

He continued to draw nearer. "Michonne..."

She pushed him away, but that didn't stop him. They'd had this fight so many times before, he'd lost count.

"I don't want to be your friend." She punched him in the chest, waiting for him to react. "Fuck you, and your new wife, and your stupid friendship."

"Can we be adults about this?"

"You pick a hell of a time to wanna be mature, Rick." After everything he'd put her through, he really had some nerve. She pushed him again, but this time he grabbed her arm. "Let go of me."

"If you promise to keep your hands to yourself."

Her eyes burned into his, hating him for making her feel the way she did. But those eyes. Those goddamn beautiful blue pools. They could always melt her with just one glance. Fuck. She slapped him, just for confusing her so damn much.

He couldn't help but chuckle. She was crazy. But he was out of his mind, and that was precisely why he'd spent so many years doing this dance with her. He loved her like this. And every other way too. But he knew it was unhealthy. They just weren't right for each other.

"Look at us," he implored when he realized what a tense embrace they were in. He held her closely just to stop her from hitting him again. It was ridiculous. "This isn't how a relationship should be."

"You're the expert now, I guess."

"I'm not," he assured her. "But I know Lori and I don't treat each other this way."

She winced at the sound of her name. It stung to hear it, to personify this mystery woman. Now she had to acknowledge that the bitch was real. "Lori?"

"My fiancée."

"Yeah, I got that."

"I'm sorry."

"Let go of me," she demanded harshly. She hated being so close to another woman's man. He wasn't hers anymore. What a crushing blow for a random Wednesday afternoon.

He did as told, releasing her hands and arms, but he didn't give her any space. She was pinned against the wall, much to her chagrin. They were so close she could smell the faint remnants of beer on his breath and whatever shampoo he'd used to wash his hair that day.

"I was with you for eight years," she reminded him quietly. "Eight years of your lies, your bullshit, your mess. And you're marrying some bitch you couldn't have met more than nine months ago."

"Michonne…"

"Tell me why I wasn't good enough," she sniffled, quickly wiping at her eyes. "Explain it to me, Rick."

"You were," he promised softly. "You are."

"Obviously not," she was frowning. "Good enough to fuck, I guess. Good enough to bring me around your friends when you wanted to seem interesting, I suppose. But not good enough to wife."

"That's not what this is."

"Then tell me what it is." She leaned forward, letting her lips graze the side of his face. "Tell me it was real."

He swallowed hard, unsure of what was happening. "It was."

Her chest was pressed against his now and she was officially kissing the side of his face. "You stayed away so long this time. I knew something was wrong."

"Michonne…" he repeated, with much less conviction this time. Her lips were so soft, and her body in that dress was just unfair. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything other than her.

"You're really gonna walk away from me?" she chided him.

He was losing the war. His mind could only focus on her lips and his body was giving in, too. Before he knew it, he had cupped her face and was covering her mouth with his. Her lips were so juicy and plump, they felt so fucking good against him, when her tongue requested entrance into his mouth, he was powerless to resist. They were full on making out, her hands in his hair, while his grazed her ass, innately pulling up her dress as he'd done so many times before.

As she realized what was happening, she began to unbuckle his belt, anxious to get inside his obviously expensive pants. She rubbed her hand against him, smiling at the fact that he was already hard for her. Some things never changed.

They pulled apart just long enough for her to remove her panties, but their tongues were tangled again mere seconds later. With her dress hoisted above her waist, he pushed her up against the wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, and penetrated her slowly. He grunted pleasingly at the sensation of her all hot and wet, but guilt washed over him the second their eyes met again. He had done this so many times. When was he going to stop?

She could see it, the shame clouding his eyes before he had even gotten all the way in. "Don't do it," she pleaded, already knowing what was about to happen. "Don't you fucking dare do this to me."

The moment was gone. He pulled out of her, regretfully, and turned to fix himself up, allowing her to do the same.

"You're such an asshole," she shook her head, pulling her dress back down. "I hope your future wife knows that."

"Don't bring her into this."

"You brought her into this," she spat. "You did all of this." She leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, as if she could protect what was left of her heart from him. There was no use, though – he'd smashed it to pieces at this point.

He watched her intently, his eyes scanning her face, searching for something unknown – perhaps for forgiveness, which he was sure he wouldn't find. He wished he could take away her obvious pain, especially since he was the one to give it to her, but... he was out of moves. The damage was done.

"You gonna stand here all night?"

"Until I'm sure you're all right," he returned quietly.

"Then I guess you'll be here all night."

He flashed a quick smile at her joke, not realizing she did not mean that lightly. "Sorry," he looked back at her innocently when she scowled at him.

"I want you to leave." Her words came out in a hoarse whisper, but they were loud and clear in the silence.

"But-"

"Please," her big brown eyes were begging him. "I can't... be around you."

He didn't want to understand that, but he did. He backed away from her hesitantly. If he left now, he wasn't sure when he would see her again. And that hurt him, too. "I really never meant to hurt you, Chonne."

She locked eyes with him for what she was sure would be the last time. "I know."

But the fact remained, he did.

* * *

Lyrics: "Ex-Factor" - Lauryn Hill (The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill)


End file.
